


2am Drive Thru

by intelligentgravity



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: 2am food runs, Gen, teenage drunkeness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intelligentgravity/pseuds/intelligentgravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2am and Gordon's drunk and he needs french fries. Scott needs sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2am Drive Thru

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-Thunderbirds, Gordon's 17 and the others are... older. This is just a one-shot bit of silliness and fluff, for your enjoyment! Some minor OC m/m insinuations but nothing explicit.

Someone was throwing shoes at the side of the house.

Scott looked up. He’d only gone to bed an hour ago. He and Virgil had been talking quite late, both being home in Kansas over Easter for a few days. Virgil had nodded off, so Scott had gone back to his room and sat up a bit later with a book.

The clock read 2:02am. There was another thud and a sports shoe fell past his window. And there was someone calling out in a yell that was sort of trying not to be a yell- “Virgil! _VIRGIL_!”

Scott got up with a sigh, and threw up the sash. There were two teenagers on the front lawn, having a whispered argument as the one that looked suspiciously like his younger brother was trying to convince the other to give him his shoe. After a brief tussle and a bout of the giggles, another shoe flew erratically at the house, somewhat towards Virgil’s bedroom window.

“Gordon! Will you knock it off? Everyone’s asleep!” Scott whisper-shouted. The two young men looked up, and Gordon walked forward a few steps.

“Heeey Scott, can you get Virgil? I don’t wanna wake up Scott. Gimme the shoe, I gonna get it this time. _Virgil!_ ”

“Oh my god, are you _drunk_?” Scott leaned out a bit further. The light in the next window flicked on, and a moment later Virgil was looking out, rubbing his face, just as a shoe finally was aimed at its target. He managed to get out of the way, but there was a crash as his bedside lamp was knocked to the floor.

“What the-”

“ _Do not move_ ,” Scott hissed down at the two, who had burst into howls of laughter at getting the shoe in the window, and were now giving each other clumsy high-fives.

Scott had got down the outside of the house in a hurry before. He didn’t want to go through the house and risk disturbing his father, whose bedroom was luckily and deliberately on the far side of the palatial estate. He had his feet in the garden in less than a minute, striding towards his kid brother with a look like thunder. Gordon realised the danger too late, only managing to take a few meandering steps in the other direction.

“What the hell, Gordon?” Scott snapped, grabbing him by the arm. Gordon made noises like the grip hurt, but Scott knew it didn’t. “Who bought you alcohol?”

“Oww Scott leggo, I wanted Virgil not you,” Gordon moaned. “Virgil is nice, Virgil will take us for French fries!”

“I will do what now?” Virgil had just caught up to them. Gordon tried to wrench free of Scott’s grip, but his inebriation made him sloppy.

“We were celebrating, we got some beers, now we want frenchfries. Letgo _letgo_ LETGO-”

Scott complied quickly to stop him from shouting. “You’ll wake everyone up! You’re lucky Dad’s room is on the other side,” he growled. Virgil sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“He was out tonight. The team won a big competition today, I bought them a case of beer to share around,” he said. Scott looked at him, surprised.

“Firstly, I didn’t know that was today, why did nobody tell me? And secondly, I’m surprised at you, Virgil. They’re underage!”

“They were at Abjit’s house, his parents were _supposed_ to be supervising. And it was ONE case, I don’t know what he added to get _that_ wasted. And I did tell you, but you and Dad had meetings and couldn’t go.”

“I won a gold medal, Scotty!” Gordon went to his friend, whom they had momentarily forgotten about, and carefully took off one of the four medals the guy was wearing. “Thaaankyoup! See? And now we want _all_ the fries! I miss friiiiieeesss. So sick of boring plain chickeeeennn.”

Scott knew Virgil was looking at him for permission. He also knew that if he wasn’t there, Virgil would have just driven them to the nearest 24-hour drive-through. He felt a bit guilty, looking at the medal, that he’d missed a big swim meet. Those sorts of things sort of slid by the wayside these days; with the involvement he had in Jeff’s business, as well as his own studies and Air Force work, he didn’t have much spare time. It wasn’t like Gordon hadn’t won gold medals before, and he likely would again. But still.

“Alan and I went, it was fine,” Virgil said softly, intuiting Scott’s mood. “He doesn’t blame you. But he _is_ drunk, and he will wake everyone up if we stay here.”

With a long exhale, Scott made up his mind. “All right, we’ll get food. I’m driving. And after that, straight to bed.”

“YAAAAY!” Gordon yelled, jumping on his friend and drawing Scott’s attention to him for the first time.

“I suppose you’re Abjit?” he asked.

“Hello,” Abjit replied, a little nervously. Scott Tracy had a reputation for being quite… intense.

“You don’t look as drunk. Make sure he doesn’t puke in my car,” Scott said firmly.

Gordon talked non-stop all the way to the nearest fast food place, which was about a twenty-minute drive. Abjit said little, just watching him talk with a lop-sided smile on his face. Scott was soon brought up to speed on all the action of the swim meet that day, as well as gossip about people who he had never heard of before. Virgil was smirking, entertained, and watched Gordon in the rear-view mirror.

“Do you think he’ll slow down?” he said to Scott, who laughed.

“Not ever. Here we are.” The drive-through was the only part that stayed open all night. Gordon ordered a dozen large sides of fries, which shut him up for ten minutes while he shovelled it into his face. Ten minutes after that, Abjit was shouting in panic and throwing the door of the moving vehicle open while Scott screeched to a halt. Gordon stumbled three steps and was violently ill into someone’s front garden.

“Oh man,” Scott groaned, looking at the remaining half of his own burger. “I shoulda known that would happen.” He grabbed the napkins he’d taken and got out of the car. Abjit was rubbing Gordon’s back as he crouched on the grass, leaning his head against his friend’s thigh and moaning sorrowfully.

“Come on.” Scott pulled Gordon to his feet and wiped his face. “Back in the car. You’re going to go to bed, and tomorrow, you’re going to send an apology letter to this person about their garden.”

They got all the way home before remembering about Abjit, but by that time Gordon was lying across his lap in the back seat, riding out the spins as Abjit petted his hair, so Scott made the executive decision to send them both to bed in Gordon’s room and deal with it when it wasn’t pushing 4am.

“I am going to be paying for this tomorrow,” Virgil yawned. “I’m glad you were driving, I’m bushed.”

“Oh well. It wasn’t all bad.” Scott smiled and closed Gordon’s door. He could already hear snoring. “You won’t be paying for it as much as he will be.”

Virgil looked pensive, looking into middle distance in Gordon’s direction. “D’ya think there’s something there?” he mused aloud. “That kid seems pretty sweet on Gordon.”

“What? No, he was drunk too, wasn’t he?” Scott scratched his head.

“Well yeah, but… in that case Dad’s old rule about no girls in closed bedrooms is a bit defunct, isn’t it.” Virgil glanced at Scott, who thought about it for thirty seconds and then gave up.

“I’m too tired now. I can’t think straight. I’m hitting the hay, good night.”

“Good night.”

Scott slept soundly for a few hours, until he was dragged out of bed by unrelenting energy, also known as Alan, who had slept like a log and missed the entire escapade. He wanted to know why there was a boy in Gordon’s bed with no trousers on, and what was Dad going to say about it?

Dad, as it turned out, said very little. He could see something was up, but he just didn’t have time to deal with it. Scott assured him it was under control, and that was good enough for him, except for an admonishment to advise him when there were guests in the house.

Gordon sat at the breakfast table, red-eyed and wincing at every thud and scrape. Abjit sat next to him, looking fresh as a daisy. Virgil and Scott were tired, but coffee helped.

“And what lesson have we learned today?” Scott couldn’t help asking in a smug manner. Gordon looked blearily at him.

“Don’t mix beer with triple-distilled vodka. I’ve lost my shoes. I’m going back to bed. C’mon, Ab.”

“Abjit has to go home. Your shoes are in the garden, where you threw them,” Virgil replied. “And _his_ shoe is in my bedroom, also where you threw it.”

Gordon half-smiled, a little wryly. “M’sorry. Work hard, play hard, right?” He looked up at his two big brothers with soft, round eyes. Scott and Virgil glanced at each other, then shook their heads and sighed, instantly forgiving him his indiscretion, if not the sleep deprivation. Scott noticed Abjit’s little smirk.

“Say fellas. Anyone fancy a treat for lunch? All the fries you can eat,” he suggested. Gordon blanched and fled, to the sound of his brothers' laughter.


End file.
